Frozen Sigh
by Siginaguran
Summary: In life choices are made, some for better, some for worse, some to regret later on. Shinomori Aoshi reminds the gods of what he has lost, and gets a reply in the most unexpected manner.


**Author's notes: **I never understood what drew me to the prospects of having them as a couple, and I guess I never know. There's just some fraction of chemistry that amuses me. 

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**Frozen Sigh**

_- Shirou Tora Byakko_

She said, "Don't cry...." the day she left him. 

She said, "I was never really with you anyway." 

And he, for his part, always thought that it meant that she was never his to begin with. That she belonged to someone else.

Only now, now in the midst of the darkened bedroom, while shadows shielded him like a traveler's cloak, while moonlight spilled through the wedge between sliding paper doors, leaving patches on the wooden floor that reminded him of spilled milk. Only now did he come to realize that it was him who she referred to. 

She was never with him simply because…

He was never there.

As much as he found out that he hated to admit it, it was true. There was no Aoshi Shinomori. Physically, maybe "yes", but his mind was always elsewhere. It wasn't with her when they made love, never with her when they spoke to each other, never hers when they stood beside each other.

For there was never a, "_Shinomori__ Aoshi, loving husband" _that was to be found in him. No. Not yet at least. There was _"Shinomori Aoshi, Oniwabanshu no Okashira"_, however, and truly, the only image of himself that he could relate to.

At the tender age of eighteen, he could expect himself to be a cold blooded killer, yes, but never the father of her children, nor the husband who could be by her side. 

Such things could not be borne. 

There was no trying. There was no second chance to think of. His only goal was to be the best. Thus leaving only two choices for him, to reach that zenith, or die trying.

But he cared. Oh he cared a great deal for her. For there was, no woman like her. There were faint traces of her in others though, in Kamiya and her determination, in the opponents he had faced… In Misao's smile when she looked his way. But he had never found another one quite like her.

And where was he now? 

Where was _"Shinomori Aoshi, Oniwabanshu no Okashira"_? 

Dead, of course. Six feet under like the rest of them.

Right now, there wasn't even an Oniwabanshu to begin with.

And if there was one to consider, then it was no longer his to command. 

Everything that he had fought for, everything that he had tried so vainly to protect was gone. And the one thing that he had shoved aside so eagerly was the one that he missed most.

And so as he finally forced himself to sit up and face the wall, he tried to whisper her name. 

But there came no sound.

For even he, through those eight years of forcing himself to shut the truth out of his mind, knew that he could never bring himself to say her name. He did not deserve her. He did not even deserve the thought of her. And yet as ethereal as the ghosts of the men that he had killed before, her memory plagued him every single waking moment.

How could he have been so asinine?

Finally, he forced himself to get up, pushing the paper doors aside with a stiff jerk. The evening wind rushed in to greet him like a loving wife, embracing him softly, entwining her cool fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes and thought momentarily of who could've been there to greet him instead. 

His head gave a fierce tilt as he tried to literally shake the thought away. He felt revolted, disgusted with himself and how attached he was to a mere memory. She was probably miles away by now, in the arms of some other man, someone who wasn't as juvenile.

Gods, how he missed her. Even though he tried desperately to keep himself from acknowledging that fact, it came back at him constantly like a drunkard's ulcer. He would give his life…His soul to touch her again. The mere thought drove him close to the brink of insanity each time he reminisced concerning it. 

And each time he allowed himself to calm down and wait…

For he knew as well as anyone else that he could never have her again. 

For how could one regain something that they had never had before? 

She was merely a lark that he had seen as he passed by tree, merely a flower that he had gazed at before welcoming the oncoming winter… Merely a memory that did not even belong to be entwined with his own. 

Looking down the empty streets of Kyoto, he watched from the second floor bedroom quietly, his eyes scanning the ground for nothing in particular. 

He heard a cat mewl softly in the distance.

He felt hopeless.

Just as he wanted to turn in, somewhere from the corner of his left eye, a shadow darted past. Almost immediately his former instincts kicked in, the instincts of a proficient assassin whose only goal was to locate his target and destroy at point-blank.

How and why didn't even seem to matter.

As his eyes darted towards the area where the balcony slowly molded into rooftop shingles once more, his eyes widened in a sudden pang of primordial uncertainty, even as he took a weaponless fighting stance. The dark figure that stared back at him remained standing, ne'er flinching.

Dark cobalt gazed directly at bronze brown, both sets of eyes flickering with the stealth of a mercenary and… Something more. 

_"Misanagi."_

And the moment he whispered her name there was no further words spoken, no other thoughts exchanged, only a single, momentary, sigh that escaped her lips, its echo frozen in the stillness of the autumn night, right before he found her in his arms. 

---

End. 

[Word Count: 950]


End file.
